


and all of the madness (has got you goin' crazy)

by dontstraytoofar



Category: Ghostbusters (2016)
Genre: Comfort, F/F, Fluff, and for some reason they split laundry duty, erins stupidly bisexual, it works for the plot ok
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-20
Updated: 2016-07-20
Packaged: 2018-07-25 15:30:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,071
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7538170
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dontstraytoofar/pseuds/dontstraytoofar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>Erin; proper noun; meaning to be prone to accidents. To have your (not so?) girlfriend worry a lot. A word to describe being outstandingly bisexual. To possess the ability to have a kink for gay clothes.</em>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	and all of the madness (has got you goin' crazy)

**Author's Note:**

> help me....i love these two....
> 
> ps all my mistakes are mine i don’t own anything yadda yadda yadda just enjoy this tag having more gay shit

 

 

When Erin is put on laundry duty she’s not sure to be flattered the girls trust her with cleaning or offended because it’s _laundry._

The oil and stench of 3 am takeout is permanent on Holtzmann’s clothes. Abby (for some ungodly reason) wears her socks  _ twice  _ and just puts them inside out to wear again. Patty is the cleanest of the four, and  _ god  _ is Erin thankful because she’s been scrubbing at this goddamn oil stain on one of Holtz’ overalls and her wrist hurts and she has a kink in her neck and  _ oh my god why did I get laundry duty?? _

But it’s kinda karma because then she gets to know Holtzmann’s wardrobe and that is something that (weirdly..?) makes her question her sexuality. 

They’re  _ clothes.  _

But they ooze the charm and style of a steam punk lesbian who probably gets like, three girls a night with just a wink, and the suit that’s currently hanging up besides Erin looks like it belongs to a 1940’s mob boss who has six wives and gets laid every five minutes and-

That shouldn’t make Erin jealous, but she scrubs at the stupid oil stain harder and harder at the  _ goddamn stupid mother fricken hot  _ clothing of Jillian Holtzmann. 

And like on queue, said woman pops her head into the laundry room, nothing but her low hanging jeans held up by the belt adorned with a woman’s leg on the buckle. And all Erin sees, with her mouth dumbly opened slightly, is  _ collarbones, neck, shoulders, smooth skin, collarbones collarbones and oh my god collarbones.  _

_ The top of Holtzmann's’ bra clad breasts?  _ Okay she needs to breathe. 

And Erin stutters out an “Uh, everything okay?” like her 29 years of bisexuality didn’t just implode on itself and grow by at least one thousand percent. 

 “Abby said don’t use that, and quote, ‘weird smelling detergent’ again. She’s right of course,” Holtz takes a beat to drum a most likely made up rhythm on the door with her short nails as she hums. 

 “Smells like someone poured ghost goo. On deteriorating flowers. And topped it off with-” 

Erin throws a thumbs up. “Got it” 

Holtz frowns, then grins at the imagery, moving from the door. 

_ Oh thank god. _

But as if remembering some random burst of a thought, she pops back in and leans against the doorjamb folding her arms, Erin widens her eyes and turns to the dryer as she scrunches up the overalls she was scrubbing in a fit of nervousness. 

All she can feel is Holtzmann’s grin crawling up her spine. 

Erin rolls her eyes at herself. 

The other woman raises her eyebrows, saying in a low, serious voice as if she was talking about conspiracies or a murder, not laundry detergent. “ _ But,  _ gotta say, that would be a nifty perfume. Catcha Gilbert!” And she finger guns herself out the room, which, not very helpfully, just makes her biceps flinch at the action. 

And Erin’s left there. 

With dirty clothes. 

Gay thoughts. 

And a deep sigh she lets out as she braces her hands on the edge of the dryer. 

_ Fuck. _

  
  


 

 

Holtzmann realised two things about Erin when they first met. 

  1. Her hair looks really soft and shiny. Like a shampoo ad. Or the underside of a coke can.
  2. Holtz likes the way her body moves.



Sure, Erin moves in a way that can be described as awkward, stiff, quirky and mom-like, but Holtzmann is talking about the  _ other _ way she moves. 

Like when Erin holds the shotgun laser in the middle of New York, and Holtzmann nearly got pummel drived by a pilgrim from distraction. Because  _ damn,  _ Gilbert looked good when she laughed at the force of the guns fire and went on a shooting spree. 

Or when they order pizza some nights and Holtz watches from her spot at her desk, lips pursed and both legs up on its surface, how Erin flies down the fireman's pole with both long arms wrapped around it, laughing the whole way down. Holtzmann catches herself wishing she was the pole. But then she shakes her head because she could think about Erin’s arms all day. 

Then she’s forced to realise she’s never thought like this before. 

It  _ could  _ scare her, but Erin then runs up the stairs with the pizza and frazzled hair saying  “We’ve been here for two months and that pole will  _ never  _ get old. You order cheese or Hawaiian?”

And Holtz will answer, in that weird low voice of hers, “I ordered, young madame..” and triumphantly shove an entire slice of pizza in her mouth while mumbling around the food; “-the heartfst of a fthousand fmen!”

Erin looks to her with a laughing smile she tries to subdue, which ends up making her bite her lip in that way Holtz likes.  _ Easily  _ number three on her list.

And Holtz can say she could sit there for days in their pizza cocoon; with Erin and her machines and the moments in between.

  
  
  


 

 

 “Okay you’ve  _ got  _ to stop nearly dying”

 “Holtz-”

 “I could think of-  _ today-  _ a thousand ways you could prevent death and half of them involve, oddly enough, tea cups-”   
  
 “I’m fine, really-”

 “-and I’m usually all for dead people. But you  _ specifically _ is a no go-”

 “Holtz _ ” _

_  “ _ ‘Cause ya make good spaghetti and Abby would be  _ devastated _ -”

 “ _ Holtz! _ ”

 “Yeah captn’?”

Holtzmann stands there, arms folded and chin on her hand and Erin for the life of her can’t figure her out. But she knows Holtz’ clothes and her bra size and her waist size and that might sound like it means Erin’s her girlfriend and they have sex every night, but really she’s just been doing laundry for two weeks. 

And Erin can say Holtz’ obsession over her not dying is weird but it’s endearing in the strangest way possible. 

Granted, she nearly got hit by a train and willingly fell into a portal to another dimension for her best friend,  _ which  _ she didn’t know they both could survive from.  

Oh, and last week Erin tried to do a _“cool front flip twist around and capture ghost”_ move while they attempted to ensnare a class two little girl who lived in this old dudes attic. And when she grinned at the successful landing she glanced over at Holtz who looked incredibly amazing half covered in goo and a dimpled smirk. 

Then Erin let herself get dragged by the back of her hair down a flight of stairs by a six year old ghost. 

She remembers a blurry vision of Abby and her worried downturned mouth, shouting her name and kneeling next to her. Patty was calling 911 and all she could make out was “You  _ BETTER  _ get here ya damn fastest. This is one of my girls!” 

But it was Holtzmann, kneeling next to Abby, who was shaking her shoulder urgently and  _ wow  _ did her eyes look beautiful. And her hair looks  _ gorgeous _ in this light. Like golden straw and marshmallows. If only Erin could touch it…

But her hand is grasped firmly in mid air, Holtz holding and bringing it down to her stomach and Erin, even though she’s concussed and nearly passed out with stars behind her vision, has never seen the other woman so  _ soft.  _ So gentle. 

Like she’s holding glass or fluffing a pillow or tinkering with the tiniest of her contraptions. 

Erin thinks of sleep, of a warm bed and Holtzmann running her fingers through her hair. Her head goes slack, and her lips are smiling softly. She feels a worried, rough hand shaking her shoulder even harder now as she drifts off. 

 “No. No no no no. Hey, hey, hey. Erin! Wake up! You can’t leave now! You still gotta shoot that gun like you do and make that dumb spaghetti we hate and-” Holtz swallows, because  _ no  _ she didn’t choke up and  _ no  _ Erin isn’t falling in a deep sleep she just isn’t, she isn’t,  _ she isn’t.  _

Erin doesn’t know that last part happened, but Holtz does as she’s flashed back to the present, and she’s a little scared. Because she still has a thousand ways in her mind to prevent death and that’s, oddly, different for her. She _rarely_ likes constants, for such a spontaneous person it’s not really her thing. But she sometimes likes the constants that come in the form of Erin and her smile and the little awkward dance she does in conversations sometimes. Oh, and her weird finger guns. Holtz likes that one especially. 

Then Erin speaks again, looking to Holtz as the other woman stands there, her chin in her hand, acting as if she didn’t care or as if she cared too  _ much.  _

Erin’s still figuring that one out.

And she says softly “You alright there?” like Holtz just cut her finger on some paper, not come to three haunting realisations. 

One: the realisation that she  _ never  _ wants to see Erin like that again. Sure, dead bodies fascinate her. But Holtz doesn’t think she could cope with all 5’7’’ of Erin in a zip up bag after a ghost bust. 

Two: the realisation that sometimes when explosions happen in her lab and when unknown chemical reactions happen accidently it’s all so impulsive and uninhibited and random that Holtz is used to living like that. Thinking like that. Speaking. Moving. Breathing like that.

And three: the realisation that even if Erin is well,  _ Erin,  _ practically the opposite of all that, is that she’s the first woman Holtzmann has ever met that is somehow  _ beautifully _ in between. A woman who blushes out of nowhere and is awkward so abruptly that Holtz grins at her and laughs as she tries to recover. But a woman who also has colour coded notes in every science journal she owns. Who labels her cups and lunches and underwear and jackets. 

 “I like you”

Erin blinks, and her lips are slightly parted while Holtz just leans against a workbench and nods to herself like whatever is going through her mind makes total sense. “A lot” 

And it’s said as if Holtz is just tightening the screw on one of her machines, asking for another type of tool with her hand doing a “grabby” motion mid air. 

 “And obviously-” Holtz moves from her leaning position, and practically moon walks over to the stereo with Erin still mouth parted and eyebrows slightly furrowed because she’s basically accepted she’ll  _ never  _ understand Holtzmann.  

 “-this calls for a dance partaaay!” And she dramatically clicks the “on” button as she glides over to Erin, sliding across the floor. 

And DeBarge is playing again and Erin just shakes her head and laughs as Holtz takes her hand and pulls her in, as they move and laugh as the other attempts the robot. Holtzmann basically pulls them so their fronts touch, both of them breathing heavily, smiling as the radio blasts over everything and all Erin can think of is white noise. 

Holtz grins and moves out of their embrace, as they jump around the room again and Erin yells “I like you too!” over the deafening music, breathless and rushed, waving her arm to get Holtz’ attention as she tries to hide her smile at the the dorky, crazy scientist across from her. 

And as the noise fades out Holtz turns to her, stopping abruptly, a look of pleasant surprise. Then Erin says more softly; “I like you too Holtz” as their breathing slows with the music. 

The other woman smiles, dimples and all, and Erin thinks of the laundry and her soft collarbones and Holtz’ golden hair at the bottom of those stairs. 

Holtzmann darts to Erin, holding her cheeks as the she feels her thumb rub softly at her jawline.

And they kiss. 

Erin breathes in from the surprise, and it’s dumb fireworks and a million of Holtz’ failed experiments and countless pins and needles in her lips. Erin's hands go up in the air in surprise, to awkwardly hang suspended. But she relaxes her shoulders and smiles into the kiss like Holtz is, holding to the other womans soft hair at the base of her neck. 

Holtz mumbles into her mouth, not even attempting to reign her smile in. “So _.  _ Should I walk into the laundry room half naked unannounced more, or..?”

Erin nods, pulling her in for a kiss once more by the lapels of that  _ goddamn _ 1940’s lesbian mob boss suit.  

 “Uh huh. Definitely”


End file.
